


Only Child

by Ariasune



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh!
Genre: Gen, Heartshipping, Yuugitachi, gore mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-25 09:34:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ariasune/pseuds/Ariasune
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ryou is a <i>Genuinely Creepy</i>™ child, or Five Times Ryou alienated his social circle.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Only Child

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Magpied_Spider](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magpied_Spider/gifts).



> I'm not sure how well I followed the direction you were after, Megatron, but I hope you enjoy what I wound up with. Best of luck with exams!

"You know it's dead, right?" Jou asks, nose scrunched up, and teeth showing in a tight, nervous smile.

The cat is  _tangled_ on the road: its legs thrown overhead, and neck curled back against the bone. It can't have been here long - the heat is stinking, but the animal's face is clean, save the ragged spots where a bird has taken the eyes. Its blood has dried black on black fur, but there is a telltale sweat of blood in the air, and Jou wraps his palm across his nose.

The animal is so obviously dead, that Ryou gives Jou a withering glance.

Coughing into his hand, Jou gestures with his schoolbag down the road, "We should probably get to- Bakura!" Ryou calmly crouches down beside the carcass, hair tangling on his shoulders. "We're going to be late," Jou whines, but Ryou stays quiet, watching a fly tick by the cat's ear.

Shifting from foot to foot, Jou growls to himself, hand still clamped over his face, "I'll meet you there!" He declares heatedly, turning on his heel. Hesitating, he looks back at Ryou impatiently, "I'm really going, Bakura," There's no response, "I mean it."

Grinding his teeth, Jou finally turns away, and it's only when he starts down the road that Ryou finally speaks, "It's bad luck."

"Huh?" Jou stops, squinting as Ryou gets back to his feet, smoothing his uniform down.

"Talking in front of the dead," Ryou jogs to Jou's side, slowing into an easy walk, "At least, it's kind of rude," He smiles side-long at Jou, but his tone is easy, "Black cats are lucky though[1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes) \- not sure about  _dead_ ones, but," Ryou scratches at his cheek in thought, before laughing at himself, "Nevermind."

If Jounouchi Katsuya had been with Anzu, or Yuugi that morning, he might not have said it. However, Jou lived in former Ashoro[2b](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes), near Ryou's home, and it had been the two of them walking to school together.

"That was really creepy," Jou sighs, a long shudder crawling up his shoulders. For all the tastelessness of the remark, he makes no move away from Ryou's side. Despite that, Ryou's smile fades, and he scuffs his feet moving away from Jou.

Head lowered, Ryou intently studies the floor as he walks, "I know," He shrugs - more goes limp - as though his strings have been chopped to threads, "It's hard to explain," In fact, it is almost laughably easy to explain, but it is far harder to be understood.

* * *

In the aftermath of Egypt, they get along surprisingly well, but then Ryou is more reserved than his friends. Smiles a little cooler, and doesn't demand Kaiba's time, or attention (both spread thin) so much as the others. Instead, they start a friendship built on a mutual fascination for European mythology, and introversion. That, and the fact they are both strangers in this town.

"You grew up in Kyoto[3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes)," Kaiba assumes at lunch one-day. His cellphone has been ringing perpetually for almost ten minutes now, pausing between calls like taking breaths.

"Oh," Ryou looks up over his melon bread, still half-wrapped in its convenience store packaging, "Yes," He studies the window, "We moved for my father's work, actually; Domino has an excellent museum."

There is another loud blare from Kaiba's phone, "You don't have much of an accent," There is a noncommittal hum from Ryou, before he takes another bite of bread, "It must have been quite a move. I sometimes regret moving Mokuba here[2c](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes), it seemed a lot to ask a younger sibling."

"I don't think he sees things that way," Ryou assures, almost absently.

"You moved for your father's work."

"Yes," Ryou looks up at Kaiba, eyebrows furrowing.

"And you don't resent him for it?"

Tilting his head, Ryou stares at Kaiba for some time, before replying carefully, "I was having trouble at school," He sets his food down, next to Kaiba's phone, which is still whining for attention, "Some of my classmates went into spontaneous comas after spending time with me, and the others naturally blamed me for it," Kaiba realizes with a start that he has actually heard of this: The Kyoto Comatose Epidemic, "My father tried to keep us in Kyoto, but after several schools, I had a reputation..." Ryou gives a bird-like shrug, "He thought it was better if we had a fresh start."

There are no words to explain the chill crawling up Kaiba's spine; it is something dismissive, like watching the Other Yuugi walk away into light, like seeing a reflection of himself crouched over a white-haired woman.

"They never found out what caused that Epidemic," He says slowly, watching Ryou with a thin suspicion. Something illogical, and unbearable marching around in his thoughts.

"No," Ryou agrees, reaching for his lunch again, "They never could explain it."

Abruptly, Kaiba looks away, resting his head on one hand. Fussing, he moves a piece of his lunch from one side of the box, to the other, "I don't believe in ghosts," He comments warily, but Ryou's expression looks like cracked glass. He pushes his lunch around again, looking at Ryou guiltily, "I don't know how to explain Egypt."

"Yes, you do," Ryou mutters viciously, shoving away from the table with a scrape of his chair. Gathering his things, and his expression, until it is an even, bright glare at Kaiba, Ryou continues flatly, "If you're worried about how Mokuba feels, ask him," Levelly, he nods, before stalking away from the table.

* * *

Flustered, Ryou digs through his bag for his pencil-case. It was a gift from his father - or at least, is meant as one. Ryou had actually picked it out, and bought it, but his father had given him the money with a smile. Patterned with small teal ghosts on shiny plastic, it's full of pens Ryou can't remember getting, and drafting pencils that cost too much money. It is also very definitely sitting on Ryou's desk.

Seeing Ryou fuss with his schoolbag, Anzu grabs her own pencil-case and clicks the top off. Rifling through it, she bites her lip, "I've only got a red pen."

Ryou looks up at her with a jolt, before breaking into a warm smile, "Thank you."

Flushing, Anzu holds the pen tightly, "It's red."

"I don't mind," Ryou holds his hand out, and Anzu very slowly gives him the gel pen. Gingerly she closes her pencil case, and watches Ryou scratch his name in red on top of his worksheet[4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes). The characters are shiny, smooth and wet in a colour too bright for blood. Waving the paper to dry the ink, Ryou smiles at Anzu, "I owe you one."

"It's okay," She mumbles, still staring at Ryou's name, red-written on his page.

She is a modern girl, Anzu tells herself, she wants to go to America to Study. She wants to live in New York. She is a modern girl. She lives in The Domino City; that chain of glittering business districts wrapped around Kaiba Corporation. The economic, and entertainment center of Japan. She is a modern girl of Domino.

Still, underneath that, Anzu grew up here when it was still country. She was born in Urahoro[2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes), and her parents were born in Urahoro. Even if The Domino City has sprung up, glistening around her, some part of her is still six, listening to crickets along the dusty road home. Some part of her still sees a name written in bright, red ink and shivers.

* * *

Honda looks at Ryou wistfully, "You're lucky," His face is flung open, like an unlocked door clacking open in the wind. Ryou can only furrow his eyebrows in confusion.

"Lucky?" He echoes, voice reverberating in his throat.

"Sure are," Honda purses his lips, flops across his desk with a genuine whine, "I heard Ribbon-chan confessed to you."

Ryou squints at Honda, "Ribbon...?" He repeats the word, mouthing the English uncertainly, curling his tongue around the syllables. Is there even a girl in the country with a name like that? Warily, Ryou shrugs at Honda, "I'm sorry, I don't think I know a Ribbon..."

"She's lovely," Honda interrupts heatedly, seething through his teeth, "She's the most lovely girl in the entire school."

There is a deep-rooted headache in Ryou's skull, and he can feel it send another tendril out. It's a familiar migraine; something he has grown with, as much as it grows with him. Unable to bite back his irritation, Ryou's eyebrow ticks, "I don't know this Ribbon-san," He almost rolls his eyes, and has to shut them instead, "I'm sure she really is lovely-"

"She is!"

"But I don't  _know_ her," Ryou pulls a face, mouth twisting into an disinterested frown, "I don't think that's even a name."

"Miho," Honda hisses. Ryou's still coming up blank, and now Honda is venomous, "She works in the library!"

Comprehension hits Ryou more like a tap to his shoulder, than a fist to his face, "Oh!" He gestures at his hair, "Ponytail?" Honda nods furiously, and Ryou's headache is clawing at his eyes, "I really don't know her."

"She's in love with you-"

"Love is such a strong word-"

Honda scowls, "Are you dismissing her heartfelt feelings?"

"What?" Ryou's nose scrunches up, "No?" He throws a hand up in confusion, "I just mean, she and I have barely spoken."

A soft snort, "So?"

"So-" He pauses, unsure he heard that right, "So- so, a lot!"

Honda doesn't seem concerned, "I've never spoken to her, and I am madly in love with her."

Ryou scuffs his ears, not convinced his brain isn't leaking from them, "Pardon?" He knows he's staring at Honda.

"I'm in love with Miho," Honda repeats, staring back just as frankly, "I guess you just don't understand love."

"I..." Ryou has  _nothing_ to say to this; it's too ridiculous, too inane a remark, "Sure, I guess I don't," Honda's stare is so dismissive Ryou looks away, fidgeting with discomfort, "You really  _are_ madly in love."

"It's destiny," There's a condescending smile splashed across Honda's face, "Our red string of fate[5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes)."

"You don't believe in that, do you?" The question spills out of Ryou, rich with irritation, and dripping with disbelief. This is the same boy who had laughed off Ryou's interlaced tabu; made fun of him for natal charts, and blood types, and not touching kai cards[6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes)\- he can't quite believe it.

Neither, it seems, can Honda, who is looking at Ryou as if he's seen him for the first time, "You don't?"

"No," Honda had joked about not closing an ouija board[7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#work_endnotes) \- Ryou was still reeling at his capriciousness in beliefs, flitting from one to another without focus, or respect, "Love isn't magic."

"She is," And now Honda is back to breathy compliments about Miho, "You're so lucky that she's in love with you," Ryou hasn't been lucky a day in his life - with spirits, or with love - and he goes rigid, like a tree casting its shadow low on the ground. Honda is still looking at Ryou with pity, and none of it for misfortune.

* * *

"I-" Ryou falters, outright _gutters_. His face is stinging with heat, as he flushes and stares wide-eyed at Yuugi. Swallowing around the pulse pounding in his throat, Ryou continues, "I don't miss him," His heart clenches at the abruptness of his statement. They are meant to be studying, sitting across from each other at Ryou's table. There is a half-finished campaign map splayed over most of the table, so that they are wedged to the corner, their school papers stumbling over each other.

There is a stumble in Ryou's heart. A half-hoped chance that Yuugi understands that Ryou is neither truthful, nor lying. It scrunches up in Ryou's chest, knuckles white, and fingers tight on his mechanical pencil. Everything about him curls tightly up, laced into painful knots.

Yuugi is staring at him, like he's seen a ghost. No, worse. Like, he's seen someone die.

"You don't have to miss him," Yuugi mumbles, at last. Rolls a shoulder nervously, "He wasn't a good person," A considering pause, "In the end. Not to you anyway," and the shame rocks through Ryou. Like the ocean, like blood wrapping down his spine. It is clammy, and hot, and he cannot bear to look Yuugi in the eye.

"Sorry," The words sink into Ryou, clamp down and clot low in his belly, "I-" This is all over itself, tangling and seething together, "I meant Atem."

He is neither truthful, nor lying, but he means it. He means it, because he couldn't sit like this with Atem, with his heart wound up in his chest, and his face bright. He couldn't do his homework with Atem. And now, he can't explain why this matters, why it's important, why it's blurted out of Ryou's mouth like an oil-spill, slicking on his teeth.

Yuugi shifts, eyes dropping like a paperweight onto his homework. After a moment, his pencil scratches the paper again. For the first time, in a long, long time Ryou feels like he might cry. He hasn't cried, not since he'd sat in his sister's room in the middle of the floor, struck by the choking realization she would never come home to him. He blinks helplessly down at his work sheet; he can figure out the answers, but each step is disconnected from each other, left spiralling into empty riverlets. Isolation from meaning.

"I should leave," Yuugi says into the reigning silence.

Ryou's voice isn't as soft as it hopes; it's straining, and filling the edges of his mouth with a quake, "Please don't," The back of his throat is burning with the effort not to sob, and so long as he keeps scrubbing at his eyes, there aren't tears on his face. That seems to matter more than anything else, except the acidic loneliness scraping at his rib cage.

"Ryou..." Yuugi's voice is soft, soothing, and gentling, and-

He stares at Yuugi, entire face trembling, "Please-" He stops, starts, stutters, "Please don't leave me here alone," He can't explain why this is important, why it means something, what it means, "You're my best friend."

There is the feeling of warmth setting over his hand, like a new cup of tea, warming his fingertips. Ryou startles, and Yuugi squeezes his hand, "It's okay," He tells Ryou, which doesn't matter, but then, Yuugi says, "I understand," and that  _does_.

**Author's Note:**

> [1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#1) Black cats are considered lucky in Japan.
> 
> [2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#2)Headcanon for Domino City, where due to the relocation of Kaiba Corporation, the prefecture of Tokachi has rapidly turned from a number of rural cities and villages, to interconnected business districts, and surburban areas.
> 
> [2b](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#2b)Further headcanons that Jou's family comes from former Ashoro, and lost the family business to new competition in the boom. Anzu, and Yuugi are also local, coming from Ikeda (Hokkaido). 
> 
> [2c](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#2c)Seto and Mokuba Kaiba had a grandmother born in Urahoro, which informed Seto Kaiba's decision to relocate his company to the area.
> 
> [3](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#3)Ryou's polite manner of speaking could have been a lapsed kyo-kotoba dialect. Kyoto is also a region with a large number of schools to transfer between, as well as a strong connection to history, and religious-spiritual tradition.
> 
> [4](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#4)Grave markers were often shared between couples, and if only one of them was deceased, the living person's name was painted over in red ink. This led to a superstition that if you wrote a person's name - including your own - in red ink, then they were going to die.
> 
> [5](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#5)Red String of Fate is a common motif in Japanese romance tropes, where a couple's fates are joined together by a red thread and implying destined romance. These are normally depicted as tied at the pinky finger.
> 
> [6](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#6)Natal charts are used to determine, and analyze the course of human lives by examination of the sky people are born under. Bloodtypes are considered a form of personality analysis, popular in Japan. Kai Tarot Cards should only be touched by the owner, or will certain permissions.
> 
> [7](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4955254#7)Ouija boards are used as a relatively modern form of talking board. After a session, they are traditionally closed, and when used for supernatural purposes, not closing would theoretically leave a channel open for the spirit. This is considered dangerous, and ill-advised.


End file.
